Falling into a routine aboard the TARDIS the Master began to find his life a little easier. Routines and plans had always helped him to focus, on board the valiant he was never bored, he hadn't won the Earth easily but watching all of the pieces of his plan come together gave him the sense of order he craved. And if he still found himself bored, hands twitching on a dull say he could always screw one of the assistants Lucy hated or go and play with the freak. Without these distractions on the TARDIS and only the Doctor for company the Master kept his hands occupied with technological projects, useless things, lest they find themselves something else to do. The Doctor still remained an almost constant source of entertainment always electrocuting himself on bits of the TARDIS, flying the damned thing almost entirely wrong and leaving his things lying about the ship then cursing when he fell over them, though as annoying as he could be at times the proximity to another timelord, just being able to feel the Doctor's mind nearby was something immensely comforting and even though the master didn't like this new reliance on somebody else he accepted it, keeping companionable silence with the other man save for when he really couldn't hold in his laughter something the idiot did.
Yes the Master's day was planned and scheduled from the moment the Doctor unlocked his bedroom door in the morning until the key turned again in the lock after he was wished goodnight. For the first week in his new room the night's had been dull but otherwise bearable, something which changed on the ninth day when as the door to his bedroom closed the Master felt a great quiet surround him, the Doctor's presence gone from his mind and the distant sound of drumming forcing its way back to the front of his mind.
Unused to having another timelord so close the Doctor had spent a week barely sleeping or waking after his dreams overlapped or were interrupted by those of the man in the next room, he hadn't thought that he was so out of practice at using telepathic blocks but when even his efforts before sleep failed and he spent another night trying not to listen in to the Master's dreams he had spent some time under the TARDIS console the next morning and set up shielding around each of their bedrooms giving them both what he was sure was much appreciated privacy and he would just have to work harder during the day deflecting the stray thoughts the Master projected towards him.
Privacy gave the Doctor the sleep he needed but for the Master on that first night time seemed to stretch and twist until he felt sure he had been sat in the centre of his bed for days but the Doctor wouldn't leave him again would he? If the last time had been a mistake then he would surely know better than to put a room out of sync again. Six hours later the door reopened and an anxious and exhausted Master all but darted out of the room, for once still in his pyjamas to make breakfast before settling down on the kitchen sofa with the blankets he kept there for a nap.
The next night he tried to prepare himself, a covert scan of the TARDIS' internal records revealed it was just psychic shielding, nothing more sinister surrounding his rooms but even so the sudden solitude as the key turned in his door left the Master sure that he wouldn't be sleeping again that night. Instead sat with his back against the smooth wood of his door, turned off the light and screwed his eyes closed with his arms around his head to try to block out the crescendo building behind his eyes. The books on the shelves would never be enough of a distraction but after a few hours his own body provided a brief break in the drums and he was forced to pull himself up off the floor as his bladder screamed at him. Half asleep and unaccustomed tot he gloomy room he was half way across the room when he walked straight into the solid wood leg of his bed frame and pain exploded from his stubbed little toe to his mind giving the Master a sweet moment of clarity, swearing despite his relief at the pain in his foot the Master moved more carefully towards the bathroom where he switched on the light, relieved himself then got down onto the floor to retrieve something he had concealed under the bathroom cabinet.
It was supposed to be his last means of defence, the Doctor had never noticed the loss of a small but sharp knife from the kitchen, the man really did have a death wish what would he have done if the Master had intended to sink it into him rather than as a last escape should he need it, the doctor had taken away his right to die once when he dragged him from the valiant, he wasn't going to do it again.
He had little need for such dramatics now though, not with the promise that something as small as a stubbed toe could banish the drums for a moment. Choosing a spot was difficult, it shouldn't be somewhere that would visible during the day but had to be somewhere sensitive enough that he wouldn't need to go too deep, removing most of his clothes and contemplating the Master decided on a small area on the inside of his left thigh and sat on the counter next to the sink before carefully washing the blade, the water so hot that the initial burn when the blade touched his skin distracted him for a moment as he lay the blade flat against his flesh and hissed, a smile forming on his lips as he watched the skin go pink, an hour later once his mind was suitably quiet the Master re-washed his blade, secreted it away back into it's hiding place now wrapped in the cloth he had used to dab the small amounts of blood from his thigh and to press down on the wound when the pain faded.
As he showered the cut on his leg stung a little but had already begun to heal, to be safe he sprayed on some of the can-o-plaster he had found in a cupboard which was likely years out of date but it would stop any blood seeping onto the jeans he was ready to change into for when the Doctor let him out for breakfast. A glance In the mirror as he heard movement behind the door revealed that he looked like utter shit but despite the dark smudges under his eyes he felt better than he had in days, he would grab a few hours sleep on the couch in the kitchen this afternoon while the Doctor piloted the TARDIS.
"Master, are you cooking breakfast or shall I?" The Doctor's voice floated into the bathroom from the man's position at he entrance to his bedroom and the master shuddered at the memory of the last time the Doctor had been left in charge of breakfast: there had been banana pancakes with Marmite, as interesting as that had been the Master didn't think he wanted such an eccentric breakfast this morning so with one last look in the mirror threw on the grey tshirt he had chosen for the day and shouted out to the Doctor.
"I'll be out now."
